


Kicked Up Dust

by SansyFresh



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Guy Error, Chaotic Evil Nightmare, Chocolate Shakes, Death Threats, Good Guy Error?, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Multi, Spirit Error, idk lol, old west au, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21623167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: There was a little town, out among the sand and rocks.They had a Spirit they worshiped, prayed to, and gave gifts.Outside of that town? The spirit was a ruthless outlaw named the Destroyer.And Nightmare just can't keep himself away.
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 127
Collections: Glitchy Boi is Best Boi





	Kicked Up Dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverDragonMS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDragonMS/gifts).



> woooo this took a while to write XD but i hope you like silver!!
> 
> this is an Old West AU cause i find AUs make these bois easier to write lol
> 
> enjoy :D

There was once a little village, far out in the desert past the mountains, far from any rivers or lakes. No one understood how the village sustained itself on such a small population, or how they even obtained water so far out in the vast, vast wilderness that surrounded it. 

What most people outside of the village didn’t know was that, just outside of town, there  _ was  _ a little lake, with a small wooden house sat squat beside it. The people of the village would pay homage to the skeleton who lived in the house by showering him in gifts and prayers, then they’d take their empty jugs and barrels and troughs and they’d lead their horses and cattle up to the water to drink. It was a trade they made willingly, rather than having to move back east where no one would be able to support their way of life.

The skeleton, black boned and always wearing a bright red, torn smock, would sit on the porch of the little house, watching as people came and went, leaving behind their gifts. There were covered baskets of freshly made biscuits, melting with real butter, piles of home sewn quilts for the cold, shivering nights, and even little sugary treats the children had bought and brought with him in mind before they’d take their little metal cups and take a sip of the ice cold water. 

Some might have thought that everyone getting their water from the same source would have caused illness and they’d have been right, had it been a simple lake. No, the skeleton knew it was the opening to a large series of caves that lead straight to the far off rivers and eventually, the ocean. His own magic was used to churn up the water and bring the fresh, crystal clear water from the depths.

In the end it may not have been the healthiest way to get water, but in the harsh desert? Surrounded by nothing than sand and rocks and dry, dead bush, it was a saviour to their way of life. 

Why he did it, no one knew. It wasn’t that he cared about the townspeople, or the gifts or prayers. He’d just as soon leave and never come back as stay, and there was very little they could do to stop him.

They knew him as their Spirit, the one they prayed to when times were rough, the one they went to for favors. Outside of that village? He was Error, the Destroyer. No one was sure who he’d killed, where he’d killed, or how many, but the body count he left behind was not to be trifled with. The law had been after him for decades before he’d disappeared, and when it came to the village asking after a black boned skeleton with crazed eyes? They kept their mouths shut.

Error had done nothing but save them. Why would they betray him when he’d been their Spirit, their saving grace, the reason they didn’t die in the wilderness, surrounded by the bleached bones of their ancestors?

So for years he came and went through the village like a ghost in the hills, in and out of their lives, and the only  _ real  _ place they could find him the squat little house on the side of the lake. Well, there, or the bar in town where Error tended to breeze into with an air of loneliness, sit at the bar, and ask for a chocolate milkshake with two strawberries on top. 

It was his usual, one that he got on good days. Days when the sun shone high in the sky and there were few clouds, when one of the kids had stopped him in the street to reverently show him a shiny new rock and the way it glistened in the sunlight. 

So when he sat at his place at the bar, cool glass in his hand, the taste of cool chocolate in his mouth, and a little ragtag group of misfits came hustling in, he was a bit put out of sorts.

The bartender eyed the group warily as they came through the swinging front doors, dressed in all black with unmentionable stains on their clothes with expressions screaming they thought they owned the place. If he said a small prayer to the skeleton currently seated at his bar against the ones currently trashing up his establishment, that was between him and the Spirit. 

Still, when the four skeletons came ‘round to the bar proper, demanding drinks with glistening eyes that spoke of nothing coming his way as payment but more trouble, the bartender put his foot down.

“I’m gonna have to ask you gentlemen to leave, and not return.” he said, plain and simple. The skeleton in the lead, however, a stout little fellow with bright eyes and something dark in his grin, seemed to disagree. The bartender could feel dark magic moving through the air, fear and misery seeping into the very air he breathed as the skeleton stepped up, clearly looking for a fight. 

“I’m sorry, friend, but you’ll have to repeat yourself. After me and my boys have done nothing but come in after a hard day, expecting a nice cool drink and hospitality, and receive nothing but misplaced anger?” the skeleton laughed, the sound grating, the opposite of nice.

It was overpowered by an even louder, harsher,  _ meaner  _ laugh, one that came as a blessing and a curse to those who heard it. The bartender sent a prayer of thanks and got the hell out of the way, all four troublemakers turning to the source of the sound. 

Error had sat up in his seat, eyes manic as he peered over the tip of his bandana at them. “SoUnDS LikE yOU bOyS cOULd uSe SOme MAnnErS.”

“Yeah?” the leader asked, sounding bored. “You gonna do something about that, old man?”

Error huffed in amusement, turning back to his shake and taking a long, drawn out sip from the bottom before grinning. “I duNNo. MigHt.”

The four skeletons growled, taking a step forward, only to stop in place with shock on their faces. Blue strings appeared from Error’s outstretched hand, waving around as if unsure before moving with startling, brutal efficiency. Before any of them could do more than twitch, they were trussed up from the ceiling, the string tightening around their necks just enough to be a hassle to breathe. 

The leader went to snap something, something Error didn’t care too much to hear, and so he dropped his bandana and tipped back his hat. The smarter of them blanched at the sight of his face, the leader included. The more feral one seemed to only get the hint when one of the other two kicked at him, whispering something harsh before Error decided he was finished with this little demonstration. 

“NoW, I’m GoiNG tO LEt YoU All LeAVe WitH YoUr LivES, ThiS TimE.” His eyes narrowed, the strings tightening ever so slightly. “DoN’T ComE BACk.”

And with that the four of them were tossed out the doors and onto the street, dust kicking up as they all rushed to their horses and started back out of town. Error watched them leave with a glint of madness in his eye, the thrill of the hunt making him want to follow them, toy with them, perhaps even kill them if he felt like it.

Movement behind him paused his step forward, the bartender walking up with a newly made shake in his hands.

“Thank you.” he said simply, and Error nodded, taking the shake and sipping at it softly.

“LeT Me KNow iF ThEy ComE BAck.”

~.~

Nightmare stared deeply into the fire as it crackled and sent sparks up into the night sky, his gang eating and laughing raucously as they recounted their latest exploit. Robbing the stagecoach had been easy, the easiest thing they’d done in a while, especially after escaping the Destroyer with their very lives.

He was inclined to believe that Error had gone soft, living in a wayward little village like that, being the knight in shinin’ armor and what the hell else he did for those people. Nightmare felt bile and rage come up the back of his throat as he thought about just how close they’d all come to losing their lives that day, to him losing the little family he’d made out in the unforgiving desert.

He looked them over, his little family. Dust, Killer, and Horror, his poor boys who’d hit the wrong side of the law in a bad time of their lives. He’d taken them under his wing, given them purpose when otherwise they’d have taken a short walk off a long rope. 

But Error… Error was an enigma that Nightmare was struggling to parse. He was the Destroyer, the one man army that even Ink and his posse couldn’t contain. Nightmare wasn’t sure just how many times over the long, long years that the report came through that Ink had finally caught the bastard, only for it to come out not too long later that he’d escaped in some grand, unknowable way.

It was infuriating.

But, in some strange, strange way, it was also making him feel hot under the collar and that was even more infuriating. Something about the way Error commanded a room, the way he slipped from even the tightest nooses, the way he left Nightmare wanting more… it made him furious beyond words and there was very little he could actually do about it.

Error had warned them to stay away. It was likely he would kill them the next time they showed their faces, and Nightmare could admit to a little cowardice when it came to his own life. Not to the like of his boys, no, but his own? Well, Nightmare could say with honesty in his soul that if it came down to pursuing his lust or keeping his skull attached to his neck, he would take the second option every time. 

Still, there was something about Error, something that was drawing him in. Something that he knew his boys felt as well. They’d talked about little else after they’d been far enough away from the village that Nightmare knew just how they felt about being manhandled as if they were nothing but dust in a jar. 

He felt the same way. Not that he would admit it, but feeling the despair coming off Error’s soul? The pure, delicious way his soul seeped with raw power? Nightmare wanted that with every fiber of his being. He wanted to take Error as his own, and share him with his boys. He wanted Error as a part of his gang. 

Getting him? Would be the hardest thing Nightmare ever accomplished. But if he could step out from under his brother’s shadow and be the best skeleton he could be, he could get Error to come with them and abandon that shitty little town. There was nothing there for him, after all. Nothing but shitty people who probably didn’t appreciate him the way he deserved.

A grin crept over his face as he took a sip of the coffee Dust had brewed them all, the bitter grounds floating at the bottom making his expression screw up in a crooked smile. Ahh, the sweet taste of a plan being formed. 

No matter what, he would get Error. There was nothing that could stop him, not anymore. Not after he’d killed his own brother to get what he wanted. Not after he’d fought the law and won. Not after Nightmare had long decided that what he wanted, he got.

“Time to tuck in for the night, boys.” Nightmare said quietly, his boys all nodding and putting away their supplies before laying on their mats without a second word. He watched over them as the moon began its climb through the sky high above, the stars shining down on them with a blessing, a promise.

Oh yes, he’d get Error. Even if he had to kill him to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed, consider leaving a comment ^^


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